


Koniec

by Blossomdriver



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I Made Myself Cry, My First Work in This Fandom, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, The reunion we won't get, and of course its angst, fell free to yell at me for my mistakes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:47:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22221169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blossomdriver/pseuds/Blossomdriver
Summary: Three years have passed and Geralt finds out what has happened to Jaskier
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 29
Kudos: 419





	Koniec

**Author's Note:**

> so forgive me in advance for the fact the first witcher fanfic i write is angst / no comfort
> 
> this awful idea would just not leave me alone

Three years.

Three years Geralt had been trying to track down Jaskier - to apologize for everything he said. Guilt had been gnawing away at his thoughts and bones for three years. As if it was a hungry wolf not satisfied with its meal. Wanting more - needing more

He has been following a trail, visiting as many towns as he could in search of the bard. They never said in one place, but every time Geralt gained new information, the trail went cold again. 

Geralt arrives into town before dusk. Ties Roach to the post inside the sable and heads in the direction of the tavern. 

Heavy bags hung under Geralt’s eyes. The man has not had a decent night’s rest in a long while. His chest ached at the tough of Jaskier - he is the only person that ever made himself feel safe to sleep when they were still traveling together.

As the Witcher opens the door, only a few heads turn in his direction. Though they don’t pay him much time after that as the few who looked at him return to what they were doing. Chattering amongst themselves as Geralt makes his way to a table wedged in the back. 

A barmaid comes up to Geralt. She was thin and small with a narrow face, but she smiles at him anyways. She sets down a tankard of ale in front of the witcher. And as she turns to walk away from the man, Geralt spoke up.

“Can you tell me, you haven’t happened to have a bard pass through?” Geralt has had to repeat that line too many times that he becomes a second nature question. 

The smile on the barmaids went to a deep, sorrowful look in an instant. And Geralt knew it wasn’t a good sign. So he did himself to prepare for whatever was to come his way.

But  _ nothing _ could prepare him for this.

_ “Oh,” _ The Barmaid starts as if she was startled by it. “Didn't you hear, he died.” Her auburn eyes shift to the side and stare at the floor.

Geralt stops, feeling something take hold of his heart and squeeze it - tempting on ripping it completely from his ribcage. The Witcher forces to swallow the lump around his throat - wanting to dislodge the sensation of the hot coils wrapping themselves around it. 

“When did this happen?,” Geralt said when he finally managed to push the words past his teeth. His entire body feels numb. His brain doesn’t even register the pain that is being caused as his fingernails dig into his palm. 

“A few months ago,” The barmaid tucks a hand under her chin as she does her best to recall.

“How,” Geralt growled, not knowing he did so until he saw another change in the barmaid’s face. She looked terrified.

“When he came in, he looked awful, all skin and bones,” She says “He fell ill not too long after he played here,” 

The more she spoke, the tighter the coils wrapped themselves around Geralt and the quicker he wanted to get out of there. But he couldn’t move, felt frozen to the seat as the woman continued. 

“Elram had found him by the road not too far out of town the next day, barely hanging on, though, by the time he got the man back to town, it was already too late.”

Suddenly the thought of drinking doesn’t seem pleasant to him - bordering on nauseating. So Geralt leaves the full tankard of ale on the table, leaves enough in a hurry to startle even the barmaid. 

He leaves a handful of coins on a table, more than enough to for the ale and moves his way through the crowded tavern, this time with harder nudges to get others out of the way. 

Not even three steps out the door and the witcher’s legs feel like they would collapse on him at any moment. Powering through the feeling Geralt manages to pull himself to the stables. Where Roach greets Geralt with a worried snort.

Pressing his face into Roach’s neck. Geralt squeezed his eyes tightly and allowed an awful and unfamiliar sound to escape his throat - a sob. All Roach could do was give silent comfort to the other. Occasionally nudging her face to the side of the Witcher’s head.

Geralt can’t remember the last time he cried - it had been several decades. His throat is raw and rough and every part of his body felt as if was undoing itself thread by thread.

They say Witcher’s don’t feel emotions and Geralt wants nothing more at this moment for that to be true. To have anything replace the heartache and pain and agony that runs through his body.

Wants nothing more to make it stop. His brain had tormented him enough over his last words to Jaskier over the last three years. The hungry wolf coming back for more and more every day. 

Now his worst fears had come true.

Jaskier was dead, he was dead and Geralt never got to apologize.

This is why he doesn’t get involved with humans Because he knows, one day, he was going to be the last one standing. 

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to follow my witcher [sideblog](https://trans-geralt-of-rivia.tumblr.com/) or send me writing request on my writer's [blog](https://ambercreek.tumblr.com)


End file.
